


The Disappearing Act

by KatyaZel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dissociation, Dreamless Sleep, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, POV James Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 08:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyaZel/pseuds/KatyaZel
Summary: Sirius Black is losing his grip and getting worse at hiding it. James is getting worse at ignoring it, but no better at actually helping. An early morning meeting with Regulus, several talks with Remus, a dash to divination with Marlene, and a visit to Madame Pomfrey all help him try.***Now with a postscript chapter***





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content note: There's some mental-health stuff in here that could be triggering (mentions of dissociative episodes, paranoia, etc). Also mentions of abuse in the Black household, though not depicted or graphically described.

James was surprised, certainly, but quite pleased, upon the violent receipt of a charmed paper airplane. It sped directly into the side of his head, knocking his glasses off, and he had to feel around the grass for a few seconds before he recovered them. With his eyesight restored, he unfolded the parchment and let out a laugh of surprise. Remus, who was laying on the ground with one arm draped over his eyes as a protection from the sun, lifted that arm to squint at James. “What is it?” he asked.

James shook his head in disbelief. _“Regulus Black_ wants to have a--a ‘brief discussion on the topic of my brother, your relationship to him, and his overall wellbeing, particularly following the unfortunate events of Halloween.’ What do you reckon?”

Remus propped himself up on an elbow and glanced around. James followed suit, ensuring that Sirius was still engaged on the far shore of the lake with Marlene McKinnon and the Giant Squid. Remus spoke. “Well, in the first place, only a Black would write like that at thirteen bloody years old. Jesus.” They shared a laugh. “I don’t know, I suppose you ought to see him. No harm in it. But only if you swear to tell me about the whole conversation. It’s bound to be ridiculous.”

James nodded, but didn’t verbally agree. He hadn’t told Remus about Halloween; he hadn’t told anyone about Halloween, except in a panicked letter to his parents. He hadn’t even told _Sirius_ about Halloween, and he was fairly sure Sirius didn’t remember any of it. “I reckon I’ll talk with good old Reg. He’s more pompous than I think anyone has the right to, but Sirius is right, he’s a good kid. For a Slytherin,” he added as an afterthought, because it was ritually necessary.

“For a Slytherin,” Remus echoed with a smirk, because they both knew the ritualistic necessity was, bluntly, stupid.

***

“Thank you for making the time, Potter,” Regulus Black said crisply as he walked into the owlery. His smile was the proof that beneath the pomp he was still a kid. 

James, slumped against a window sill, raised his eyebrows. “Alright, there, Regulus? Not too early for you?”

Regulus gave him a funny look. “I chose the time, Potter, of course not. Though it sounds like, for you, maybe--”

“Not at all, not at all,” James breezed. Or rather, he tried to breeze, but his yawn betrayed him. Who arranges a meeting to _talk_ at seven in the bloody morning on a Saturday?

Regulus smirked a little, and it was almost eerie to see Sirius’s smirk on Regulus’s face. “Well, even so, I appreciate it. You know why I wanted to speak with you, of course.”

“Well, in a general sort of sense, yes, but some specifics wouldn’t hurt.” 

Regulus nodded and began to pace, hands clasped behind his back, and James struggled not to grin. He was adorable, kind of. “You know my brother as well as anyone other than me,” he began, his words chosen carefully. “Even so, you should not have seen...what you did. On Halloween. I apologize for it.” 

James sighed and mussed his hair reflexively. “Regulus...It’s fine. We took care of it.” He felt his stomach drop at the mere thought of that night. “He’s okay, now.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Do you believe that?” 

James shrugged, and slid to sit on the floor. He gestured for Regulus to do the same; the other boy hesitated, but finally dropped his mask and followed suit, his back rounded as he leaned forward and looked at the unbiased grey flagstones.

James nodded. “Maybe not. Maybe you’re right. But he knows, now, that I can help.”

“Have you talked with him about that night?” Regulus sounded so weary, far beyond his years.

“Well, no, but--”

“He doesn’t remember it. I can nearly guarantee it.”

James had figured as much, really. Talking with the Sirius of that night had been like talking to a stranger who had his best mate in a stranglehold. He considered Regulus. “You’ve seen him like that before, haven’t you?”

He shrugged, barely. “Like that, or like something. It’s not exactly new. It’s been getting worse lately.” Regulus drew himself up, then, lifting his chin so he could look down his nose at James. “Which is why I asked you to meet with me today. I know you and my brother are quite close--”

“He’s my best mate.”

Regulus shot James an irritated look. “Yes, I said that. I know the two of you are quite close, and as that’s the case, I imagine Halloween was not the last time you’ll see something like that. I--” the facade cracks, momentarily, and for a second Regulus looks like the scared, thirteen-year-old boy he is. James feels a swell of affection as Regulus continues. “I don’t want him to hurt anyone, or to get hurt. I want to make sure you’re prepared to deal with this, because I don’t reckon it’s going to get better.”

James grinned at Regulus, despite the other boy’s serious tone. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you. Are you--vetting me?”

Regulus sniffed haughtily. “I’m looking out for my brother. He’s trusting, and he won’t make sure for himself that his friends aren’t false.”

“You big sot,” James’s face was now entirely split by his grin. “You _are_ vetting me. You’re looking out for your brother! Are you going to have this conversation with Remus and Peter and Marlene, too?”

“Potter, can you stay focused for a moment?” Regulus turned slightly red, embarrassed by his own affection. “None of them saw Sirius on Halloween. You did. And you did the right thing by telling me, but there may be times I’m not able to help. I need to know that you will be able to.”

James sombered up a little. “Sirius is like a brother to me. I’m always going to take care of him.” He nodded, with what he thought wasa finality. Regulus didn’t seem to agree.

“It’s not easy. He’s hard to love.”

 _“Regulus._ I’ve been friends with him for four years, now. I love him, okay?”

“That’s not what I mean.” Regulus stood, clearly frustrated. James couldn’t help smirk, but he had no idea what he was supposedly missing. “Sirius is going to need to be forgiven a lot, and he won’t always ask for it. He might--he might do some really shitty things. He might do things you just don’t understand. It’s built into him.”

James cocked his head. “Do you believe that? That we’re all tied up in a package and that’s what we are forever?” James wasn’t trying to be confrontational; he wasn’t certain what he thought himself.

Regulus sighed and kicked the brick wall. “Jesus, Potter, I didn’t bring you here to philosophize. I’m concerned about my brother and he doesn’t need people who are going to turn tail as soon as his erratic side bubbles up to the surface.”

“Okay, well, I won’t. I already haven’t. I was there on Halloween, and I’m still here now, and the next time he--gets that way, I’ll still be there.” James stood and stifled a yawn. “I appreciate your concern, Regulus, and we can keep in touch about this, but if that’s all, I’m going to go back to my warm bed and sleep for another four hours.”

Regulus seemed to have something else he wanted to say, but shook his head and waved a dismissive hand at James. _“Fine._ Fine. Go to your bloody tower, then.” He leaned on the window sill and stared out at the dawn-laced landscape.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time James woke properly again, the other boys had all gone to eat lunch. He stretched and stared up at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, willing it to make sense of things for him.

It didn’t, but before long, Remus returned, which was even better. “Morning, Moons,” he said through a sleepy grin. 

Remus raised his eyebrows with a small smirk. “It’s not, actually.” He rifled around on his desk, trying to find something beneath the clutter, before he turned abruptly around to face James again. “Oh. Hold on. You talked with Regulus this morning, didn’t you. That’s why you’re exhausted.”

James nodded--or tried to; it was difficult to do so with his head on a pillow. He patted his bed. “Come hear the tale, Remus, old friend. See if you know what to think. Seems you usually do.”

Remus rolled his eyes at that, perching on the edge of James’s bed. “I usually know about seven different things to think, which might actually be less helpful than zero. But tell me all about it, anyway. Was it morbid?” 

James snorted. “Any conversation with Regulus. But...yeah. It was, kind of.” He decided his dignity was worth sitting up; he felt ridiculous talking about this while horizontal and under the covers. “You remember how Sirius and I were out late, on Halloween?”

“I remember falling asleep at a reasonable hour and the two of you not being in the room, yes.”

James ruffled his hair. He wasn’t sure how to approach this. He didn’t know that Sirius would want it discussed, and certainly not behind his back, but… “Will you promise not to tell anyone this, if I tell you what happened?”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “You know me and secrets. We get on great.”

James smiled briefly. “Right. Well, Halloween, then. We had just finished with the pumpkins--you know how they exploded on the teachers all the next day?--and we went to the kitchen for a snack. He’d been--did you see him much, that day?”

Remus furrowed his brow, trying to retrieve the two-week-old memory. Or perhaps not needing to retrieve it at all, as it seemed to come quite quickly to him. “He was a little...twitchy. Jumpy, you know, in that way he gets, right?”

James nodded. “Right. That way. Well, it was just getting worse. All evening. Until we were in the kitchens and he started acting really, really oddly.” James didn’t like to think about this. He’d tried to keep it far from his mind for two weeks, and mostly succeeded, because after that night Sirius had been back to his normal self. Remembering it now, he was struck by how frightening it had really been. “He was laughing a lot, which was fine at first because, I mean, _exploding pumpkins,_ but he wouldn’t stop...but then he started talking.” 

James paused, looking down at his hands. Remus knocked his knee against James’s leg in a comforting way, and spoke quietly. “What was he saying?”

“He was talking to Frannie, you know, that really ancient house elf, and he was accusing her--all the house-elves--of... _something._ It was kind of hard to follow. At first I thought he was joking, not that it was particularly funny. But he kept going. Yelling at her, abusing her, really, with this _look_ in his eyes, telling her she’d better stop it. I think he thought they were watching him, or--hell, I don’t know, _plotting_ against him.” 

James swallowed. It was harder than he’d anticipated to recall all of this. He wondered if Remus could tell just how frightening it had been. Probably; it was Remus, after all. “What did you do?” he asked. There was nothing accusatory in his voice, nor any eager, morbid fascination. Remus was all empathy and evenness, and James was grateful.

“Bloody hell, what could I do? I thought poor Frannie was going to have a damn stroke. I tried to get him to leave, I tried to grab him and go, but then he started shouting at me. Similar stuff, I guess. It was like he wasn’t there, you know? Not our Sirius, not the real Sirius. He wouldn’t listen to me, and I didn’t know what to do, and so I sent a paper plane to Regulus.”

Remus nodded in understanding. “And that’s why he wanted to talk to you today.”

“Right.” Now, James could grin a little at the younger boy’s affect. “He was very _Regulus,_ of course, about the whole thing. But it was kind of sweet, too. He was checking my credentials, I guess, making sure I wasn’t going to run and hide any time Sirius gets like that. The kid has a lot to learn about friendship.” The idea of abandoning Sirius was unthinkable to James. Maybe Regulus couldn’t conceive of loyalty outside of family.

Remus sighed laboriously and flopped backwards onto James’s bed. “That bloody family…It’s only a miracle Sirius isn’t more fucked up. Well, did Regulus give you any, I don’t know, advice? How to--to deescalate if that happens again?”

James paused. Probably that had been what Regulus was trying to do, actually, and he kicked himself a little for not understanding. For cutting the conversation short. “Not really. I might see if he’ll talk again, I guess. I mean, he got Sirius to calm down that night, and Sirius was fine the next morning. So he must know something.” 

Remus hummed in assent. “That kid knows a lot, I reckon.” He paused. “Are you going to talk to Sirius about it at all?”

James hadn’t planned to, ever. After Regulus’s suggestion that it wasn’t quite a fluke, he was less sure. “What would I say, though? ‘Hey, mate, you don’t remember it but the other week you absolutely lost your shit and got violent with some house elves.’ Don’t know where that conversation would go.”

“I guess if it happens again?” Remus offered. “He would want to know. You know he hates the idea of losing control.” It was true, in a broad, emotional sense more so than in a practical, everyday sense. Sirius had no problem with James taking the reins on a prank, or with letting Marlene order him around when they worked together in potions, but the second control was taken from him rather than given willingly, Sirius grew almost feral.

“Yeah. If it happens again,” James said. He really hoped it wouldn’t and feared it would.


	3. Chapter 3

“I heard Hagrid say he’s got a couple of baby nifflers,” Sirius said with a gleam. “Reckon we could nick them? Set them loose in the Divination room?” He and James were strolling towards the greenhouse for Herbology, and the sharp cold that had settled in only seemed to energize Sirius.

James grinned. “Brilliant. Medea’ll have a fit.” He checked his watch and saw that they were several minutes early. In a split second, he finalized a decision he'd been putting off for a week. He grabbed Sirius’s arm and dragged him behind the greenhouse, steeling himself for the conversation to come.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Am I being propositioned? Because it’s flattering, Prongs, but--”

“Oh, shut up,” James replied testily. He drew his eyebrows together and wished he had thought about this a little more.

Sirius must have seen or sensed his consternation, because he dropped all affect, something he so rarely did. He tried to meet James’s eyes, concern sketched loosely on his face, and said, “Are you okay, James?”

James sighed and dug his toes into the hard ground. Finally, with resolve, he proceeded. “Look, Pads...what do you remember about Halloween?”

Sirius gave him a blank look, but James noticed something hard shift in his eyes. “You mean that night? We charmed all the pumpkins, yeah? And went to the kitchens.”

“Do you remember anything else? Or, anything about the kitchens?” James could feel the worry on his face; he had never been much good at hiding what he felt. Sometimes he thought this an asset, but today he wished he were made differently.

“Shit,” Sirius said quietly, looking upwards at the low, grey sky. “Shit, shit,  _ shit.  _ Did I…” he swallowed and looked back at James. There was a sort of hopeless fear in his eyes now. “Shit. I lost most  of that night. I...that happens, sometimes, but you didn’t  _ say  _ anything, so I didn’t think...what happened?” He began to pace in a tiny circuit, hands tearing at his hair and scarf and coat. 

James almost felt like crying; he knew how that would go over, so he fought it. “It’s okay, Pads, it’s fine.” He wasn’t sure there was a way to comfort his friend here, but he felt he ought to try before describing what had happened. “No one was--hurt, or anything. A little scared, I guess, but--”

Sirius looked at him with horror. “Bloody hell. Frannie? Is  _ that  _ why she won’t look at me? What  _ happened?” _

James ran his hand through his hair. “You just--well, on Halloween, you just got a little  _ paranoid.  _ Really paranoid, I guess. You were just sort of ranting, I guess. But Regulus got you calmed down, and it was fine. And I wouldn’t have said anything…” He trailed off. Sirius already looked so scared, it almost felt unfair to bring up the other night. But this was what he had said he would do, he thought, so this was what he would do. “I wouldn’t have said anything, but I think it might have happened again, the other day…?”

Sirius shut his eyes and leaned against the greenhouse. “Tuesday?” His voice was a defeated whisper. “I lost most of Tuesday.  _ Bloody  _ hell. What  _ happened?  _ James, you have to tell me who I--what happened.”

James nodded. “It wasn’t bad, Pads. I just knew it wasn’t  _ you.  _ Just the way you were acting, things you were saying. About...well, about us, me and Moony and Wormtail.”

Sirius looked stricken. “Did they hear? What did I say? Were they there?”

James shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes, they were. You were just very...distrustful,” he said, knowing Sirius was aware of the understatement. This was too hard. Why hadn’t Regulus deputized Remus or Peter? “I just thought you would want to know. And wanted to ask if there’s anything we can do, when you…” He trailed off.

Sirius slid down to sit against the greenhouse wall and looked out at the bleak forest behind James. “Merlin and  _ Morgana.  _ Regulus doesn’t have this problem. You know why? Because he never--” Sirius cut himself off suddenly, as though remembering James was there. He shook his head violently and looked at his watch. “Herbology’s about to start. You’d best go on.” James hurt for Sirius. He was sure it showed on his face, and he was made surer when Sirius glanced up at him and then smirked. “Merlin, Potter, you can’t live your life feeling bad for me. You’ll run out of room in your tiny brain.”

James waffled for a moment but then nodded decisively. “Right then. Herbology. Shall we?”

Sirius shook his head. His hands were dug deep into the grass.“Go ahead. I might go down to Hagrid’s, see if I can’t get a cup of tea and some of those niffler bastards.”

There was no way James was leaving Sirius alone. “Excellent. I’ll come with you, then.” 

“What’re you lot doing?” Came a pleasant but breathless call. They turned and saw Peter, hurrying to class. Remus was slightly behind him, but his much longer legs gave the impression of a casual stroll rather than a dash to class.

“Skiving,” Sirius replied. “Hagrid’s. He’s got nifflers and Madea’s got a new shipment of crystals. Should go swimmingly.” James marveled at how totally his friend had transformed himself, suddenly becoming once more the grinning, scheming, magnet he normally was. “Want to join us?”

Remus raised his eyebrows at James, clearly asking  _ did you tell him.  _ James nodded a little, and Remus looked relieved. Turning to Sirius, he shook his head and smirked. “In ten years you’re going to need to know exactly how to pack a wound with Polypody for some daft reason and you’ll regret this. I’m going to class.” He ignored James’s lighthearted mockery as he strolled into the greenhouse.

Peter looked momentarily torn, but his instincts were different from Remus’s. “Hagrid’s? Let me come along, then, I’m starved.” 


	4. Chapter 4

James almost succeeded in pushing the entire ordeal from his mind. Sirius didn’t have another episode, and then it was the holidays, and James never heard from Sirius over Christmas. It was possible to construct a world in his mind in which his friend was doing just fine, thank you. 

But the fiction couldn’t last. They returned to school in the new year, and while James did his best not to see it, Sirius was spinning out. Everyone knew. It changed how the Marauders spoke, it changed how they glanced at each other, it changed the air they breathed. Even when Sirius was there, and himself, he seemed meaner, somehow. Scared, anyway, because he knew too. Remus appeared to be perfectly fine, but his long, even temper had been severely amputated. Peter felt it most of all, probably, and resentment grew visible in his eyes. 

“Gone bloody mental,” Peter scowled one night as James helped him clean up the room. They had walked in to find Sirius ransacking their things indiscriminately, perhaps searching for some incriminating piece of evidence that didn’t exist. “Absolutely bloody mental. More than he used to be, even,” he added, casting a muttered scouring spell to clean the ink spilled all over his desk. 

James wasn’t sure what to say, because it was true. He spelled all of their clothes back into the wardrobe. “I don’t know, Peter. He’s going through a rough time, I reckon.” He thought wearily about Sirius’s eyes, hunted or trapped, when the two of them entered the room. Sirius had said nothing, simply slipped past them and fled down the stairs as Peter and James had stood in shock. 

Peter shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe he’s just a bastard.”

“You don’t mean that,” James said quietly, hopefully.

Peter sighed. “Right. I don’t mean that.  _ Reparo,”  _ he said, and the jagged shards of glass that had been his inkwells flew back together with a jarring clash.

***

Later that week, James hovered outside Charms and pretended to tie his shoes, hoping he might walk with Lily to Divination. Her animated discussion with Flitwick didn’t seem to be slowing down, though, and he finally sighed and conceded that he probably ought to go. As he started to rise, he looked up and saw a pair of trousers startlingly close to his face. He fell back a little. Standing before him like a birch tree was Marlene McKinnon, with a faintly amused smile on her lips and her hands shoved casually into her pockets.

_ “Jesus,  _ Marlene, you can’t just-- _ sneak up  _ on a man like that. Jesus.”

“My apologies,” she replied pleasantly. She glanced at the classroom, from which Lily’s voice was loudly audible, and then back at James. She smirked mightily. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Oh, bugger off,” James muttered, rising to his feet. “You heading to divination?”

“Unfortunately.” She set off, seeming to trust James would follow and keep up with her long strides. “But I wanted to see you, anyway.” Marlene’s tone was just shy of brisk. “I’m worried about Black. Figure you’re the man to talk to, short of Sirius himself, and we all know how  _ that  _ song plays out.” 

James stomach dropped. “What happened?” he asked.

Marlene didn’t respond as they leapt to catch a staircase. “This castle must agree that Divination is a waste of my time. It doesn’t want me to go as much as I don’t want to. No, nothing _happened,_ ” she continued. Marlene had a habit of holding several conversations at once and expecting everyone to follow. “Nothing happened, I wouldn’t say, aside from his outburst the other week, but you and your posse don’t need to be reminded of _that_. It’s a conversation we had,” she said, as though deciding something. “You know my mum’s a healer at St. Mungo’s. I’ve learned some things.”

James perked up. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” A medical solution, something easy, was exactly what he hadn’t dared to hope for. “Could your mum, I don’t know, fix him up?”

Marlene stopped walking for a moment and fixed James with a reproving look. “You aren’t stupid, James. Don’t act like you are.” He deflated. “You didn’t let me finish. You barely let me  _ start.  _ I was going to tell you about the conversation I had with Sirius.” They stopped to wait for a staircase to wheel around, and Marlene leaned against a bannister. “Before the game the other day. He was telling me how he didn’t sleep the night before, and I told him, well, there’s things you can take for that. Flew off the handle, he did. You’d think I’d told him to drink arsenic.  _ Fuck you, McKinnon, you can’t fucking tell me to take that shit, who do you think you are, did they tell you to make me--” _

“Who’s  _ they?” _ James interrupted.

Marlene gave him a withering look. “It’s a miracle no one’s ever really punched you, you know that? Let a girl finish speaking.” They rounded a corner and found themselves beneath the Divination classroom; neither made as though to enter, although they were nearly late. “My theory? Based on that conversation, and how he  _ is  _ sometimes, and mum’s experience at work? Dreamless Sleep, and a lot of it, and not voluntary. It’ll fuck you up, if you take it too often. Leaves gaps in your memory. And I really wouldn’t be surprised if that family forced it on him. Would you?”

James leaned against a wall, trying to process the idea. “That’s...that’s despicable. Do you think that’s true?”

“I can’t tell you for sure, obviously. And I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to ask him. But I reckon it’s possible.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her curls. “I don’t want it to get worse for him. I’m willing to bet Pomfrey would know something to do, if you can get Black there. She knows bloody well everything.” 

James, momentarily distracted by the awe in Marlene’s voice, smirked. “An older woman, McKinnon? She’s clever, I’ll grant you, but I don’t think there’s much hope for you.”

Marlene wrinkled her nose at him. “Oh, fuck you, Potter, like you have a better shot with Lily?” There was no malice in the response, but her ears had turned pink. “That’s not the point, anyway. Do you think you could get him there?”

James didn’t hesitate. “No. I really don’t.” He thought about the fear in Sirius’s eyes when James had told him about Halloween, and reconsidered. “Well, maybe. If things get...even worse.”

“Doesn’t seem you’ll have to wait long for that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: brief mention of self harm in this chapter.

James nearly fell out of bed, his legs hopelessly tangling in the sheets, at the violent crash of the door. “Fuck,” he muttered, squinting at the blurry figure moving about furiously. He heard Peter’s half-asleep protestations and reached for his glasses. “Sirius?”

“Go to sleep,” came the hissed response.

“Remus? What...are you alright?”

Remus threw himself onto his bed and yanked the curtains shut. “I’m fine. Go to sleep.”

Normally, James would obey such a reasonable and inviting order, but this was all wrong. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Remus truly angry, and it seemed like tonight could be one of them. So rather than sleep he fumbled his way over to Remus’s bed and lit his wand. “Moony,” he whispered, pulling back the curtains and slumping onto Remus’s bed. “What’s wrong?”

Remus’s eyes were blazing towards the ceiling.  _ “Nothing.  _ I told you to go back to sleep, for fuck’s sake.”

“I won’t. Tell me what happened.”

“James  _ fucking  _ Potter, get out of my bed this instant or I swear I’ll make you.”

James didn’t say anything, but stared at Remus, who didn’t meet his eyes. He was sure there was fear and shock written on his face, but no one was looking to see it. Finally he stood. He didn’t dare disobey Remus right now. That fury was awful to see in the face of his kindest, levelest friend.

James wondered if it was Remus’s perennial insomnia, something roughly shaped and unknowable that had upset him. Rather than retreat to his own bed, he crept towards Sirius’s to see whether he might know what was wrong. 

Sirius was not in bed. With this additional piece of information came a sickening clarity about Remus’s anger, and James, stomach sinking, decided to go downstairs. As the door creaked, Remus spoke. He already sounded more weary and sorrowful than angry. “James. Just leave him alone. He’ll fall asleep and be fine in the morning. He won’t even remember.”

James paused. “But you will,” he said, and started down the stairs.

He thought he would be ready. He had certainly seen Sirius at his worst these last few months. What stabbed his heart like an icepick, though, wasn’t seeing Sirius so much as hearing him. As he padded down the stairs, he stopped in his tracks at the wrenching, breathless sobs that reached him. 

Sirius was alone in the common room. His eyes were wide and shot fearfully towards James as he entered the room. Sirius sat on the ground, close enough to the fire to worry James, and he seemed unable to control his ragged breaths. He tried to say something and couldn’t.

James was first gutted with pity, and then remembered Remus’s fury upstairs. Remus Lupin would not be angry without considerable provocation. He started to approach Sirius, but the other boy scrambled away. “Sirius, what happened?” He asked plaintively. 

Sirius kept shaking his head and staring at James like a bird in a cage too small for its wingspan. Finally, he found his voice, but all he could say was, “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

James wracked his brain for what Regulus had done the last time he’d seen Sirius this bad. “Sirius, you’re safe,” he started. “You’re in the common room. It’s the eighth of February.” He felt like an idiot. “You’re safe in the common room, with me. It’s James.”

“Stop it, stop it,  _ stop it,”  _ Sirius sobbed. “Shut  _ up.  _ I know who you are, I know, I know… I’m  _ here,  _ it’s not that, I’m here. I remember, I’ll remember this. How can I--” he choked on his words. James tried to approach him again, and this time was able to get close enough to lay a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “How can I be this awful? It’s  _ me,  _ I’m here, it isn’t--like that. I don’t  _ want  _ to be like this.”

James was trying hard to follow; his sleep-deprived mind was finding it a little tough. “What happened?” he asked gently, “What happened with Remus?”

Sirius’s breath grew more rapid again. “God, god,  _ god  _ he’s going to hate me, why wouldn’t he, I mean, why wouldn’t you, too, I think I killed it, killed everything, who gives a damn, like I deserved it in the first place--”

_ “Sirius.”  _ James tried to imbue the word with as much weight and authority as possible. He could feel his heart pounding, an incessant reminder that this was really happening. “Sirius, you need to breathe. Please. Let’s just...let’s just breathe for a minute.” Sirius obliged James with silence, buying James some time with which to desperately wonder what to do. His most pressing concern was to return Sirius to earth, but Remus’s anger wasn’t forgotten.

When he had quieted a little, though still with rasping breaths, Sirius spoke. “I said some terrible things,” he whispered, eyes wide. “I don’t--I don’t know why. I can’t undo it. He was so bloody calm and I was going to pieces and I just--” He swallowed and didn’t continue.

James noticed suddenly Sirius’s left hand, which was engaged in a repetitive and compulsive scratching of his right arm. “Hey--Pads--stop that,” he protested. “You’re bleeding. Jesus.” Sirius paid him no mind, and so he grabbed Sirius’s hand. Perhaps too roughly, perhaps too quickly, but certainly not in such a way that deserved Sirius’s response.

Sirius leapt off the ground, snatching his hand away. “Don’t  _ touch  _ me,” he hissed, stumbling backwards towards the fire.

“Sirius, look out--” James began. He stood and reached towards Sirius.

Sirius’s eyes burned with fear as he pulled out his wand. He was still off balance, and the fire seemed to reach up. James lunged for him. Sirius did not cast a spell, but he slashed his wand through the air. Wordless, raw, terrified magic knocked James backwards and breathless, and his head knocked against a side table as he fell to the ground. Dazed, he stared up at the ceiling and caught his breath. He was at a loss. And he wanted to go to sleep.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he heard Sirius say.  _ “Aguamenti.  _ Shit.” James blinked, and Sirius’s face resolved itself above him. “James?”

“I’m fine,” he said vaguely. The initial shock had faded, and he was suddenly quite aware of the pain in his head. “Ouch,” he said, rather unprofoundly. 

“James, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Jesus--”

“You’re dripping on me,” James mumbled. “I told you to look out. Knew you were going to catch yourself on fire.”

“What’s the commotion down here?” came a pleasant, if confused, voice from the stairs. James finally sat up; determining this to be a poor idea, he promptly lay back down.

He didn’t have to ask who it was, though, because Sirius said, “Longbottom--sorry--did we wake you?” There was panic in his voice.

“Potter? Are you alright?” Frank Longbottom was seventeen but he was every bit the father already. James smiled a little at the idea of Frank with a baby.

“Just fine, Frank,” he said as confidently as he could. “Why are you awake so very late?” He didn’t think he’d ever before held a conversation in which his undivided attention belonged to the ceiling. 

Frank’s disembodied voice was incredulous. “Why am I--you lot, that’s why. The ruckus you’re making? Are you  _ drunk,  _ Potter? On a Wednesday night?”

This seemed as convenient an answer as any. “Yes,” he replied. He was filled with a rush of gratitude that Frank had stumbled upon this explanation; he did feel a little fuzzy, not unlike how he felt one firewhiskey in. Things seemed less urgent, anyhow. “Yes. Horribly drunk. Lying on the floor of the common room because of how very, very drunk I am.”

Sirius snapped. “He’s  _ not.  _ He hit his bloody head and it’s my bloody fault and he needs to see Madame Pomfrey and Jesus  _ Christ  _ I’m getting kicked out, aren’t I? Frank? Would you tell me? If I was?  _ Jesus  _ you’re no use anyway, what the fuck do they call you head boy for? He needs to go to the hospital wing, right? Can we--how--can we get him there?”

Perhaps there was good reason to go to the hospital wing, and perhaps there was good reason not to, and James really couldn’t find it in him to care one way or another. Frank And Sirius argued above him, and his eyes were so heavy, and the throbbing pain in his head promised to disappear behind the curtain of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

A concussion was quick work for Madame Pomfrey. The next morning, James awoke in the hospital wing feeling nothing worse than slightly hungover. The feeling passed quickly, but James didn’t let on; no reason to go to class when it was now clear he had to talk with Madame Pomfrey about Sirius. He tried to remember as much as possible about Marlene’s opinion on the likelihood of Dreamless Sleep. Finally, around midday, Madame Pomfrey was ready to dismiss him to class, but he lingered.

“I don’t have time for friendly visits, Mr. Potter, and you certainly don’t, either. Off to class with you.”

James shifted on his feet. “This isn’t, er, friendly, necessarily. I mean, I have a medical question.”

Madame Pomfrey was striding. There was no other word for it, and James found himself struggling a little to keep up with her. He wasn’t even sure where she was striding  _ to,  _ but it seemed like it must be quite important. She pulled out a pocket watch and glared at James. “It is past noon, Mr. Potter. I know you’ve been feeling well for hours. You’re lucky I’ve let you stay this long. Now,  I suggest you return to class unless--”

_ “Please,  _ Madame Pomfrey, I need to talk with you.”

Perhaps she heard the desperation in his voice, because she paused her deliberate motion and looked him over carefully. “Alright, then, go sit in my office. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve changed these linens.”

Her office was full of vials and hurried notes and stacks of parchment, and the room didn’t seem quite big enough for the furniture it held. James sat gingerly in a narrow, wooden chair in a corner and waited.

What was he going to say? He wished Remus were here; the other boy knew Madame Pomfrey much better, and would have thought this through before coming to her. The thought made his stomach clench, as he wondered how tense the atmosphere among the marauders must be today.

Madame Pomfrey walked through the door and heaved an enormous stack of parchment off of her chair before sitting. She turned her full attention to James, and it was a little disarming. Her voice had lost the sterile, efficient edge and become warmer, more inviting. “So, Mr. Potter, you have a question.”

“Er, yes…” He  _ really  _ should have waited a day and let Remus do this. “It’s about...It’s about Remus.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and her posture changed. James, suddenly inspired, barrelled on. “Right, it’s about Remus. He gets insomnia, really bad, sometimes, won’t sleep for weeks. He doesn’t complain, much, but it’s terrible, I reckon. I haven’t talked to him about it, but I’m wondering if there’s something he can take for it. Dreamless Sleep, maybe…?”

Pomfrey relaxed a little. “Oh, insomnia. It can be awful.” She tilted her head and looked thoughtfully at James. “Who told you about Dreamless Sleep? We don’t use it when we can help it, you know, and certainly not long-term. It’s not something I’d ever recommend to fight insomnia. Far from worth the risks.”

James leaned forward a little. “Risks?”

It was wonderful, James thought, to see how much Madame Pomfrey loved her work. She seemed to forget he was there as she spoke, warming to her subject. “Oh, yes, there are plenty. Some are physical--numbness of the extremities, shortness of breath, the like--but they usually don’t last much after a dose, and only manifest if the doses are high and frequent. Some of these risks have to do with magic, interestingly--there was a study done, not too long ago--you know, it’s quite hard to do a medical study in the magical community, so it’s half a miracle it even got funded--there was a study on the impact of prolonged exposure to Dreamless Sleep on the efficacy of a patient’s advanced charms, and the results were sobering.”

She was talking quite fast, and James was trying to follow as best he could. He took advantage of her need to take a breath to ask, “Are there any mental issues that come up?” 

Madame Pomfrey fixed him with a hard gaze. “I was just getting to that. Those are the most troubling side effects of all. In the last century, a large contingent of healers would prescribe Dreamless Sleep to anyone behaving  _ erratically-- _ mostly, that is, women who had the nerve to behave like they might be people.” Her mouth twisted. “The healers’ notes are useless, of course, because they would treat the side effects of the potion with  _ more of it.  _ But if you read diaries from some of these women, or their family members, it’s chilling. They would dissociate, forget long swaths of time. Some grew paranoid, others violent, others deeply depressed. Some experienced hallucinations--all after long-term exposure to Dreamless Sleep, mind you.” 

“That’s awful,” James protested. “They couldn’t have done that.” His sense of belonging to a fundamentally just society tilted a little as Madame Pomfrey shook her head disgustedly.

“Oh, they did. I’ve a great-aunt who turned out that way. Of course, the potion has its uses, and with limited application, there’s nothing like it,” she added, something of the practical medical tone returning to her voice. “But as anything but a last resort, I never use it.”

James nodded. Forgetting the subterfuge he had used to begin the conversation, he leaned forward and asked, “Do you think you would be able to recognize the signs in someone? If they’d taken too much?”

She didn’t respond for a moment. A line between her eyebrows appeared as she looked at James searchingly, and he remembered how smart she was as she spoke. “You aren’t asking about Remus Lupin.” It wasn’t a question, but James felt like she knew the answer. 

He fumbled over his words as he tried to respond. “No, I--I was asking about Remus. That’s why I’m here. Just, er, sidetracked. Very interesting--interesting stuff.” He pictured Sirius, enraged, finding out James told Pomfrey about his episodes, and he started to stand. “But if there’s nothing for Remus’s, ah, insomnia, I guess I’d best be off, then.”

Madame Pomfrey shook  her head. “Sit down, Mr. Potter,” she said with so much authority James wondered if it wasn’t magic that returned him to his seat. More gently, she continued. “I have a responsibility to care for my students, all  of them, and if you’re insinuating what I think you are, I’m asking you to please tell me. It isn’t incurable, the damage, especially at a young age. There are treatments. But if it’s left on its own…”

James slumped. He felt trapped. He knew too much, and none of it because  Sirius had told him, and he hated this position. He thought about how much better suited Marlene or Remus would be--but he was Sirius’s best mate, he reminded himself, and that came with responsibilities. Finally, he responded. “I don’t know, for sure. Even if it was  _ that,  _ I don’t think I could ever get him to come here and admit it.” He looked at her helplessly. “What should I do?”

She sighed, and there was a seemingly boundless empathy in her eyes. “I can’t tell you what to do, James--Mr. Potter--but I think you need to talk with this friend and tell him what you know, and ask about what you don’t. You can’t force anyone here, but know that I’ll be ready if and when they decide to come. And…” her businesslike facade had entirely fallen by now. “I’m sorry. For you, and for him. Don’t hesitate to come back.” A small, teasing smile played on her lips. “I won’t even yell at you for missing class next time. Promise.”

James wasn’t sure he felt any better after this conversation, but he did feel exceedingly grateful in a way he couldn’t express. “Thanks, Madame Pomfrey. I’ll...I’ll do my best.”


	7. Chapter 7

_ What happened? Where were you/where is Padfoot? _

 

_ Glad you’re not dead. Can we say the same for Sirius? _

 

James answered both Remus’s and Peter’s notes with one look promising he’d tell them after class. He was not in a mood to be told off by McGonagall--not again, anyway, because his entering class twenty minutes late had already earned her disapproval.

He was also wrestling with himself over what to tell his friends. He had left the hospital wing confident that Sirius would have come up with a suitable explanation, but Sirius’s conspicuous absence and Remus and Peter’s looks of bewilderment suggested otherwise. 

Finally, McGonagall finished her lecture and set them to disappearing a whole place setting in one go. Remus and Peter immediately leaned towards James. “What’s going on?” Peter asked quietly.

James didn’t answer for a moment. McGonagall was giving him a piercing look, and he took out his wand to practice. Remus glanced up at her and did the same. Peter didn’t seem to notice, and elbowed James, hard.  _ “Prongs.  _ What gives?” 

James furrowed his brow; he had managed to disappear everything but the spoon and napkin, and wasn’t sure why. He did not want to have this conversation. “I’ll tell you after class, alright? Remus, why do you reckon the spoon wouldn’t budge?”

Remus, who had already vanished the setting entirely, leaned across Peter. “Your wand movement might not have been broad enough. Is Sirius okay?” 

Remus’s features barely betrayed his concern, but James had known him long enough to see past that mask. “I don’t know,” he replied under his breath. “I don’t know where he is.”

As soon as McGonagall dismissed them, Peter grabbed James’s arm.  _ “Now  _ will you tell us? What the hell happened?”

“Yes, alright, Merlin.” He wondered if there were a suitable lie he could tell, but they deserved the truth, and so he lowered his voice and told them. “I went downstairs, late, after…” he shot Remus a questioning look; Remus pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. “After I, er, couldn’t sleep. Right. He was in the common room, in a state. You know, a  _ state.  _ Not like--not like when he can’t remember. Just like when he’s mad.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know quite what happened. He started falling towards the fire, and I tried to grab him, and he kind of...pushed me? He pulled his wand, but he didn’t use a spell, so I’m not quite sure how...but I fell. Hit my head a little. I think Frank was there, maybe, and then I woke up in the hospital wing. All fine, now,” he added quickly, seeing their matching horrified looks. “It was nothing, almost, Pomfrey fixed me up, no problem.”

Peter was furious. “Absolute bloody madman, he is. Could have killed you.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Pete,” James replied, waving him off. “I’m fine, it’s not--”

“When will you stop making excuses for him?” Peter snapped. Several students turned to stare at his outburst. 

Remus grabbed James and Peter by the elbows and dragged them into an empty classroom. “Calm down, Peter,” he said under his breath, peering at the third-year Ravenclaws lingering by the door.

Peter shook off Remus. “And why should I? Bloody hell, Moony, you know it worse than anyone, don’t you? He’s  _ mental.  _ And dangerous, apparently. He sent his so-called best mate to the bloody hospital wing! That not proof enough for you? James? You still going to forgive him?”

“It’s not his  _ fault,  _ Peter,” James said pleadingly. “Look, I was talking to Madame Pomfrey about it--”

“What the hell is she going to do, then?” Peter said. His face was twisted into a bitter scowl. “Lock him up? Throw him out?”

“No, there’s--listen, it’s more--” He sounded desperate, even to himself. Peter was wrong, but James couldn’t figure out how to tell him without saying something he hardly knew for certain.

Remus finally broke his silence. He sounded tired but certain. “We need to find where he is, first. That comes before anything else. Peter, you aren’t wrong, but I don’t think you’re right, either. We won’t know unless we find him.” James gave him a thankful smile. There was really no one better to have on your side in a crisis than Remus Lupin. 

***

Once Remus had split them up and sent them off, James, armed with half a plan, felt immediately better. Remus was to talk with Frank and Madame Pomfrey; Peter, in his recently acquired rodent form, was to check the Shack and the Forest; and James was to scour the castle. He wished futilely that their map was done, or worked better, but he knew they still had leagues to go before he could use it to find Sirius. 

He’d checked half the castle by the time he reached the astronomy tower, and the sun had begun to set. Sitting with his back against a wall, reading his Potions textbook, Regulus Black was the picture of studious solitude. He looked up when he heard James’s footsteps, and gestured silently for the other boy to sit next to him.

James settled slowly onto the flagstones. “Do you know where he is?” he asked softly. He didn’t need to explain further.

Regulus shook his head. “Not right now. But he’s okay, I think.” He sounded exhausted, not even trying to maintain his usual pretensions. “I spent most of the day with him. Most of the night, too. He’s sick over it. And sorry. He’s really, really sorry.”

Relief flooded James upon hearing that someone could vouch for Sirius’s safety since he last saw him. It was temporary, and soon replaced by renewed worry. “Regulus...this year. It’s been worse, hasn’t it? I can’t be that thick, to never have noticed before.”

Regulus nodded. “It’s been worse.” He shut his book and rubbed his chin. “You remember what I told you, back after Halloween? He’s hard to love. I told you you would have to forgive him a lot. I didn’t know whether he’d hurt you, but this is what I was talking about.” He gave James a wary look. “This is what I meant when I said he couldn’t have friends who would run off.”

James shrugged. “I’m still here. Been searching this whole bloody castle for him, haven’t I?” The sun blazed through the trees as it set over the mountains, but it did nothing to alleviate the February cold. “Regulus…” he began. He looked at the other boy carefully. He was like a distortion of his brother, or a distillation, maybe. Same tired circles under his eyes, but without the crazed energy. Same dark hair, but neat and short without the confidence and length. Same restless hands, but without the drive to create. “Regulus, do they give him Dreamless Sleep?”

Regulus blinked several times and stared at the sky. “Why?”

“They do, don’t they?” James felt sick. “Do they give it to you, too? How long, like, since he was little? Is it all the time? Why do--”

“Potter,” Regulus interrupted wearily. “Please. You need to stop asking six questions at once.”

“You haven’t answered any of them. This is important, Regulus, Madame Pomfrey--”

Regulus’s head snapped to look at James. “Are you talking to Pomfrey about this? You can’t  _ do  _ that, you idiot, do you know what they’ll do to him?”

“Help him! She knows, she would know--”

Regulus stood and glowered down at James. “You absolute imbecile.” His shoulders were drawn back, and his haughty affect had returned suddenly. “You have no  _ idea-- _ you don’t understand anything. We don’t  _ talk  _ about this. You haven’t the right to waltz into our lives and screw them up and then go back to your doting parents. Merlin. The  _ nerve.”  _ He began to walk off.

James scrambled to follow after him and caught his elbow. “Yes or no? Do they give him Dreamless Sleep?”

Regulus snatched his arm away. If he didn’t know better, he would think Regulus was close to tears. He doubted anyone had ever seen Regulus Black crying, other than possibly Sirius, and even that was a stretch. “What do you want me to say, Potter?” His voice cracked, and he looked angry with himself. “If I say no, you’ll call me a liar, and if I say yes, you’ll upend my life. What do you  _ want?”  _

“To help Sirius!” James shouted. “And if you love him, you’ll know I’m right! He needs  _ help.” _

“Not from you, clearly,” Regulus snapped. “You’re going to get him bloody killed. For once in your damn life  _ think  _ about what you’re doing.” He flew through the door and out of sight, and James was left to look helplessly at the last light of the day.


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of James’s search also failed to produce Sirius, and he returned to the Common Room like a soldier from a losing battle. “Deleon Magna,” he mumbled to the Fat Lady,

“No need to look so glum about it, dearie,” she replied, “Chin up, then.” She swung open and he stumbled inside.

Marlene, Alice, and Lily were huddled around a piece of parchment right inside the doorway. All three of their heads shot up when James entered, and Alice discreetly folded up the parchment. He didn’t have time nor energy to wonder what they were up to, and he walked past with a bare nod. Marlene, however, stood up and linked arms with James, guiding him towards the far corner. “Well?” she began.

He shut his eyes. “Well, what? Go back to your lower-tier mischief, McKinnon.”

“Let’s not pretend with each other, Potter. You and Sirius, both missing, all morning? Is he alright?” James knew there was genuine love for her friend in there, somewhere, but he bristled at her tone, all curiosity and efficiency.

“Oh, fuck off,” he mumbled. He opened his eyes to scan the room, and saw Peter and Remus sitting by the fire. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

He extracted himself and ignored her indignation. “Are you joking, Potter?  _ Tell  _ me!” 

Remus and Peter both looked up at her outburst, and waved James to sit with them. “Any luck?” he asked. From their miserable expressions, he guessed the answer was no. 

To his surprise, Remus nodded slowly. “Peter found him, in the shack. Or rather, Peter found a great big dog in the shack.”

James’s heart skipped a beat. “And? How is he?”

Peter shrugged irritably. “God knows with him. Knew he wouldn’t talk to me if I tried. Knew I’d end up punching him if I tried.” This was said with an acidic smirk. “Came back, sent Moony here down to chat with him.”

Remus silenced James’s fount of questions with a weary look. “He’s upstairs now. Sleeping, hopefully. We talked for a while. A long while.” He blinked several times and stretched out all his fingers. This was one of Remus’s tricks, one of the physical signs James could read that belied the calm exterior. “I don’t know, Prongs. I don’t know what to do. He’s so...”

“I know,” James said softly. He stood. “I’m going to talk with him.”

“Don’t wake him, if he’s finally asleep,” Remus warned.

“I won’t.” As he headed for the stairs, Marlene seemed to materialize out of nowhere and touched his shoulder.  _ “Jesus,  _ Marlene, can you please just--”

She interrupted him, and she was quiet and scared and sad. “Make sure he’s okay. Make sure he knows we haven’t given up on him. And get him to Pomfrey.” James stared at her for a moment before hugging her tightly. 

He knew Sirius was awake the second he walked into the room. He couldn’t see his friend; the curtains on his bed were drawn severely shut. But he heard his breathing, which was slow and loud in a way that only someone consciously making it so could achieve. “Sirius?”

Abruptly, the breathing grew a little faster, but there was no response. James sat on the edge of his own bed and sighed. “We need to talk, I reckon. I’m not mad, or scared, or anything. Pomfrey fixed me up right quick, and I know you didn’t mean it.”

Still behind his curtains, Sirius choked out, “What if I did?”

“You didn’t, though. I know you better than that.”

“Do you?” He sounded rattled. “Because I’m not sure  _ I  _ do, frankly. What the hell  _ am  _ I, James?”

“Easy,” James replied. “You’re my best mate. A good friend, a brilliant wizard, a reckless quidditch player. You’re strong,” he added with conviction, “And whatever this is isn’t going to beat you.”

Sirius said nothing, but after a moment he emerged from behind the curtains and came to sit next to James. He lay his head on James’s shoulder and said, “I don’t deserve it, I know it, I don’t deserve friends like you lot. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening in my mind, but thank you for being here.”

James wished he could share some of Sirius’s hurt. He wondered whether Sirius even knew what Dreamless Sleep did, whether he understood how much worse he was for it. For a moment, he considered Regulus’s fury and decided not to ask. When he looked over at Sirius, though, shrunken and shaking, he pushed the thought out of his mind. “Padfoot...when you’re at home…” Sirius immediately tensed. “When you’re at home, do they give you Dreamless Sleep, ever?”

Sirius blinked. He looked taken aback and confused, and it took him a moment to reply. “Well, yeah. Sometimes. It’s gotten more...” he seemed to struggle with his words, and finally settled on a shrug and a mumbled response. “I hate it. Makes me feel like a kid, you know? They stopped giving it to Regulus once he was four or five, like normal, but…” He swallowed. “I still wake up with that blank stretch behind me, sometimes. Never know when they’ll give it to me. You know that feeling, when you wake up after taking it and you don’t know where you are for a moment? It’s like that moment gets longer every time.”

James’s stomach fell through the floor. “Sirius...I’ve never taken Dreamless Sleep.”

Sirius knit his eyebrows together. “Well, you must’ve, when you were little, how else would your parents have gotten you to sleep?”

James thought he might be sick. He stood and paced a little, not trusting himself to look at Sirius’s innocent, bemused face. “Oh, god,” he sighed. “God. Sirius, that’s not...no. That’s not normal. Parents don’t-- _ dose  _ their children.” He could  _ kill  _ Sirius’s parents. “Dreamless Sleep is--long term, it’s-- _ Merlin.  _ You need to come with me.”

Sirius looked at James like a fox in a trap. “What are you on about?” He was clinging to something. “Everyone...every parent…” James could see some piece of Sirius’s reality flying away.

“No. Not at all.” Even as James spoke, he knew Remus would be better at this. He was too infuriated to think calmly about getting Sirius to the hospital wing; all he knew was they needed to go. “Will you  _ please  _ come with me to Madame Pomfrey? Please?”

Something shifted in Sirius’s posture, and suddenly he looked like Regulus. “Why would I talk to  _ her?”  _ he asked indignantly. “She’s not going to do anything for me. I’m not going to the fucking hospital wing and, what, telling Pomfrey I’m mental? Like  _ that  _ will work out so well for me?” With almost the same tone and exactly the same words that James had heard earlier in the evening, Sirius added, “We don’t  _ talk  _ about this.”

James knew he could never win this fight with reason, and so he resorted to the only tactic he thought might work: guilt. He hated himself even as he spoke. “Sirius,” he began in a low voice, “Last night, you made Remus Lupin truly furious, and then, you slammed me with a wall of magic and gave me a concussion.” Sirius’s agony shone through his anger briefly, and James continued. “If you feel sorry about it at all, this is how you’re going to apologize: come with me, now, to talk with Madame Pomfrey. Just about Dreamless Sleep, that’s all. I swear.”

Sirius’s hands were shaking. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Then listen to me for once in your bloody life and let’s figure out how to keep it from happening again.”

Sirius stood, paced, began to scratch at his arm again. Catching James’s eye, he stopped and clenched his fists instead. “What is she going to do? What is she going to do to me?”

James didn’t know, but he tried to be reassuring. “She’s just going to talk to you. There’s some ways to--to treat it, further on, but today, we’ll just talk.”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. He looked as small and scared as he had after Christmas their first year, and James was finally beginning to understand that, too. “You know you’re the only person in the world who could get me to agree to this?” Sirius said with a weak attempt at a smile. “You have to promise,” he began fiercely, “You have to  _ promise  _ you won’t let them do anything to me. They can’t talk to my family, not ever. Or Regulus.”

James nodded. “I promise.”

Sirius took a deep breath and tugged on his hair. “Okay. Let me break something first.” He found an inkwell on his desk. He smashed it against the wall. James pulled out his wand to repair it. And they went down the stairs, through the crowded common room, and towards the hospital wing.


	9. Chapter 9

“Bloody brilliant, we are,” said Peter. He radiated satisfaction from his perch on James’s desk.

“We’re so close,” murmured Remus. His voice was filled with a hard-earned awe as he looked over James’s shoulder at their map. “This is remarkable.”

James grinned, giddy and light. “If you do say so yourself?”

“It was collaborative,” he said vaguely. He tried to wrest the map from James’s hands for a closer look, but James held tightly to it. There was something wrong with that corner there…

They all three jumped as the door shot open and Sirius burst in. His grin lit up the room as he slammed the door behind him. He flitted to each of his friends and offered physical affection: an overeager slap on the back, a twirl, an arm slung around the shoulder. “You lot know what today is?”

James straightened his shirt and exchanged a quizzical glance with Peter. Remus, though, had a proud and knowing smile on his face. “Congrats, mate,” he said quietly.

James looked between his three friends and said, “Right, er, congrats, but for what, exactly?”

“I, my dear Prongs, have just returned from my final session with Poppy Pomfrey. You’re looking at a certifiably sane Sirius Black.”

“I guess everything is relative,” Remus smirked. This earned him an elbow in the ribs, but Sirius was too ecstatic to be offended. He flopped to the ground and lay down on the worn carpet, eyes shut and smile wide.

James felt a swell of pride in his chest as he looked down at his friend. “Good on you, mate. If I were a sot I’d say I’m proud of you.” 

“So now what?” Peter asked. He was still sitting on the edge of James’s desk, and James noticed something wary and closed in his expression. “All fixed up, for good?”

“Reckon so,” Sirius said. “Thank god I’m still young and beautiful. Few more years and Poppy says it would’ve been too late. And now it’s all behind me.”

Remus settled slowly onto the ground, sitting near Sirius with his back against James’s bedframe. “I don’t know, Pads,” he said gently. “These things can stick with you.”

Sirius finally opened one eye to glare at Remus. “I’ve spent the last three and a half months taking potions and letting Poppy prod around my brain with her spells to root it out. Trust me, she got it all. No Dreamless Sleep in me now.”

Months earlier, when James had sat and waited as Sirius first spoke with Pomfrey, he had felt an enormous sense of relief. He’d felt like all year, he’d been hurtling towards the ground, and finally, sitting in the hospital wing, he’d come out of the dive. But the months since had not been free of incident, and much as he wanted to share in Sirius’s optimism, he felt Peter’s caution was warranted. 

Still, James wasn’t going to take this moment from Sirius, and so he responded in the only way that made sense to him, with a smirk and a friendly jab. “This’ll be new territory for me, having a sane friend. Wonder how other people do it. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Sirius aimed a kick at James, but his position on the floor rendered it ineffective. “You know what this means, don’t you? I was racing on a handicap before, now there’ll be no competition for most eligible bachelor. I’m leaving you in the dust, Potter.”

Remus snorted. “As if anyone could get either of you away from the other long enough.”

James felt full and warm as he traded barbs with his friends. They showed Sirius the progress they’d made on the map, and Sirius rummaged around his trunk and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey for them to share. It was only when he offered Peter a glass that James realized that Peter still hadn’t moved, and had the same bitter twist to his mouth.

As Remus and Sirius argued over which record to play in the opposite corner, James handed Peter a glass and asked softly, “Alright there, Pete? What’s bothering you?”

His eyes darted to Sirius and he shrugged. His response was moody and almost too quiet to hear. “We’re all acting like it’s over, and it’s bullshit.”

James made no reply immediately. He looked towards Sirius and Remus. Sirius had just downed his glass and was singing along with Jim Morrison as Remus tried not to laugh. Assured that he was properly distracted, James turned back to Peter. “Listen, I know--yeah. I know. But can’t we just take tonight for what it is? It’s not everything, but it’s a big bloody deal, you know?” He heard the plea in his voice, and he wished it wasn’t there. “Come on, Pete, we don’t need to fix everything tonight.”

Peter finally hopped off the desk and accepted a drink. “You’re right,” he said grudgingly, “But if we don’t, I don’t think it’s ever going to happen.”

***

James tried to number the things he was aware of. One: the carpet beneath him, old and worn and familiar. Two: his freezing toes, long since freed of socks and shoes. Three: his friends lying on either side of him. He could hear Peter’s breathing slow and deepen, he could hear Sirius humming under his breath, he could hear Remus sigh periodically. Four: he was very drunk, and he loved his friends very much.

And suddenly, five: Sirius’s voice. Quiet. “I’m not stupid.” He sounded resigned.

Remus laughed in the surprised, unreserved way he only did when very much at ease. “And who said you were? You’re brilliant, aren’t you. No one’s calling you  _ stupid.”  _

James murmured his assent. “Bloody genius. Not smarter than me. Still smart.”

Sirius sat up so he could see all his friends. He poked Peter in the shoulder to rouse him, which James thought vaguely cruel. “I’m not stupid,” he repeated. “I know what you’re thinking.”

James’s heart sunk and he tried to will himself sober. Was this the start of another paranoid accusation? He had thought they were past this. “What do you mean, Sirius?” he asked as cautiously as he could.

Sirius frowned. “Don’t ask me like that. It’s not  _ that.  _ I know earlier, when I said I was all done, all better, fixed up, sane, I know what you were thinking because it’s what I’m thinking.” He was speaking so quickly and quietly that James had to strain his ears to listen. “It’s not over. I know that.” He hunched his shoulders and hugged his knees and looked like nothing so much as a child in time out. “I’m not stupid. I know I’m still mad. I hate it in me, I hate me, but I know it.”

James reached a hand out for Sirius’s. “Don’t hate yourself. We don’t. Mad, marvelous Sirius.” When Sirius didn’t move, James sat up and ignored the spinning in his head. He leaned over and wrapped Sirius in a hug. He’d never felt the need to fight his tendency to being a touchy drunk, and it seemed to give some comfort to his friend now. 

Peter smiled, which filled James with relief. “Good on you, mate, for--er, for--you know,” he trailed off. His eyes were already closing again.

Drunk though he was, James didn’t miss the way Sirius’s dark eyes worried towards Remus, clouded with doubt and significance. Remus’s eyes were shut and his smile was beatific. “You’re not stupid,” he said warmly. “Couldn’t possibly be. Not mad, either, maybe. You’ve done…” Remus only had trouble finding words after drinking. It was sort of refreshing. “You’ve done-- _ tremendous  _ amounts of work already. Look at you, you wanker. Think of where you were four months ago. Two. We just keep at it, don’t we?”

Sirius released some sort of tension and smiled down at Remus, but said nothing. James spoke instead. “Well bloody said, Moony. We keep at it. When did being mad ever keep someone from being a Marauder?”

Peter surprised them all by mumbling, “Not one bloody time from the looks of you,” and smiling sleepily as they laughed.

Sirius flopped back to the ground and met James’s eye with a grin, present and in control. “I reckon I’ll keep at it, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was kind of a strange piece to write for some reason; I'm not wholly sure what I think about it. If you are, let me know in the comments!


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a postscript (? Prescript? midscript?) to this story! I wrote it while I was writing the rest of it, but I don't want to publish it separately. This is Remus and Sirius's conversation in the Shrieking Shack, the day after Sirius gave James a concussion.

    These passageways still made Remus’s skin crawl. However improved his transformations had been since his idiotic, brilliant friends found a way to join him, there was still nothing he enjoyed about going to the shack. Somehow, every time felt like the first interminable walk, when he’d barely known Poppy and doubted the security of the crumbling little house. 

He ducked to avoid hitting his head and realized this was the first time he would be in the shack and the wolf wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“The bastard’s in the shack. Giant bloody dog. Didn’t even see me,” Peter had told Remus. There was a semi-permanent twist to Peter’s mouth, now, anytime he talked about Sirius. The year had been long, and Peter’s patience couldn’t outlast it. “Wouldn’t do anyone any good for me to talk to him, but I thought maybe if you…”

Remus turned this over in his head now. Sometimes it seemed to him that James got to be Sirius’s best mate for the schemes and laughs and firewhiskey, and Remus had to absorb everything else. Like he was some kind of animal tamer, sent in when the lion was baring its teeth and lunging at the audience. 

Remus grew wary as he finally reached the shack. He climbed the stairs and peered at the dusty, splintered corners of this room that held so many of his worst memories. Briefly, he wondered how meaningful a worst memory could be when you had them monthly, but then he saw Padfoot, curled and shaking in a corner with a ruined spiderweb deflated on his ear.

Remus didn’t want to react the way he did. He, for the record, wanted to harden his heart to Sirius after last night, and he tried to. But being mad at Sirius was difficult and unrewarding, and being mad at Padfoot was all but impossible. So he sighed and slumped against the wall next to the dog and began to scratch the wiry fur on his neck. He didn’t speak at first, but Padfoot began to whine softly. His eyes shone up at Remus in clear terror.

“I know,” Remus said quietly. “Shh. I know. We can talk when you’re ready.”

And there they sat for what Remus estimated to be twenty minutes. It gave him a lot of time to consider what he would say when Sirius transformed, but not enough time. He had already replayed last night in his head a hundred times and was no closer to forgiveness, and yet a pity coursed through his veins, too.

Finally, the dog stood, shaking Remus’s hand off, and a moment later, he was looking at Sirius. “Hi there,” Remus said. His voice was above a whisper, but not by very much.

Sirius, still standing while Remus sat, stared down at him. “Why did you come here?” he asked. His voice was sandpaper.

“Peter found you. And told me. And I came.”

“Why?”

Remus considered this for a moment. “Sit back down, you’re making me nervous.” Sirius immediately sat, looking, if possible, guiltier. “I’m still upset about what you said last night. But you scared us today. Me. You scared me. You shouldn’t vanish.”

Sirius pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. “I am wretched,” he said, his voice a register lower than normal and several beats slower. “I just wanted to run. I can’t say I’m sorry because I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I just wish I could outrun myself.”

Remus leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Was it his responsibility to convince Sirius he wasn’t inherently terrible? It was a hard thing to do when he felt it was nearly true. “Why did you say it?” he asked evenly, still not looking at Sirius.

“Because I’m a piece of shit. I’m a goddamn wreck. You should go.”

“That’s not really an answer. Why did you say that to me?” Remus doubted there was an answer at all. How could Sirius explain it?

It had been a calm night until it wasn’t. They were comfortable in their insomnia--though admittedly, this year had carried more tension than previous years. It was a normal night, no one else in the common room, Remus working on runes and Sirius alternating between reading and pacing and trying to get Remus to stop working on runes. Finally, Remus acquiesced to conversation. They started talking about the next moon, and in so doing, Remus realized that Sirius didn’t remember the last one, or indeed, much of the last month. He tried to inquire about it, carefully and gently, but Sirius’s defenses rose and things turned ugly.

There was no explanation for what he said.  _ I know what you are, now. Now that we’re with you, with the wolf, I know what you’ve been hiding, trying to make everyone think you’re so damn good. I know. I know he’s in there, all the time, Greyback, I know what you are. Hungry and mad, sadistic, I know what you are, what you’re turning into or what you’ve been all along, I can’t believe you’re even allowed here.  _ There was no explaining the tirade Remus had borne last night. “What made you say all that?” he asked anyway.

And Sirius, shaking, tried to answer. “God, I don’t know. No, I do. I’ve been so scared for so long, Moony. This whole year, but longer than that, too. I don’t know what I am. I feel inexplicable. And there you were, accusing me of all the things I know are true, and I couldn’t explain myself. I’m sorry. I got scared. You were so calm, I couldn’t stand it. And then…” he trailed off. 

“And then, you called me a monster and told me I shouldn’t be here,” Remus completed the sentence. He heard the anger in his voice, but he couldn’t be sorry about it. “And then you gave James a bloody concussion. And then what?”

Sirius, curling still tighter into a ball, whimpered a little, a trace of Padfoot. His voice was thin as he spoke again. “And then I got Regulus. And then I came here.”

“Okay,” Remus said. He was silent for a while as he thought. He let himself look at Sirius again, carefully, and saw everything he expected to be there: fear, disgust, confusion. Remus sighed and put one hand on Sirius’s back. Years of friendship had taught him that in moments of crisis Sirius Black needed nothing so much as a physical reminder that he was not the only living thing in the world. At Remus’s touch, Sirius first stiffened and then leaned over towards Remus. Looking up to make sure it was okay, he rested his head on Remus’s leg. “Sirius…You know this isn’t okay. I know you do.”

Sirius tried to laugh; it came out as a sob. “Of  _ course  _ it isn’t okay. Jesus Christ. I have to  _ live  _ with this mind, you think I don’t know that?”

“Do something, then.”

“What can I do?”

Remus said nothing. He didn’t have the answer, and he was frustrated that he was always expected to. Should he have to feel bad when Sirius had hit on every last one of his worst insecurities, intentionally?

“Remus?” Sirius said. He was childlike and unsure, his eyes looking intently at nothing. “Remus? What can I do? I want to be better. I’m sorry. It’s unforgivable, what I said, it’s not true, either, none of it’s true. You  _ are  _ good, you’re so good, Remus. And I’m wretched. How can I be better? How can I be good? How do you do it?”

Sighing, Remus laid his hand on Sirius’s head. “Start by not putting anyone on pedestals. No one deserves it. Then stop putting your own damn madness on a pedestal. It isn’t the only thing about you. It isn’t even the most important thing about you. I’m sick of hearing about it if you aren’t trying, at least. You say you want to change, to be good, but I just...I can’t tell that you’re trying. Those things you said last night, every word, just fucking daggers in my back. And you knew that. You knew what you were saying.” Remus’s voice was growing unsteady and he paused to rein in his anger.

While Remus was collecting himself, Sirius spoke up. “I don’t know how, I don’t, no one will tell me and no one’s shown me. I’m sorry, you don’t deserve someone like me, no one does. I don’t know what to do.” And he was sobbing again.

Remus felt his stomach tie in knots. He held every ounce of Sirius’s pain like it were his own, and he hated that. It shouldn’t be his responsibility. Where was James, Marlene, Peter, Regulus? “Pads…” he didn’t know what to say, and he shut his eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you. You need to stop being so cagy when we’re trying to help, and you need to stop lying and hiding it. You won’t get better if you aren’t honest.” He paused, looking down at Sirius’s tangled hair and frenzied eyes. “We can’t fix this all today. Let’s go back. You need to sleep.”

Sirius laughed weakly. “You know me too well to tell me to sleep. And sleep can’t fix what’s wrong with me, anyway.” 

It was true: Remus knew him too well. “We move one step at a time. Get up. Let’s go home.” 

 


End file.
